Something Bothering You?
by Legendary Koala Tales
Summary: Sherlock is sick and Joan takes care of him until they start to realise there might be something more than friendship between them. Hopefully funny and won't kill your Joanlock feels, promise! I'll be updating with a new chapter soon. Reviews are always appreciated! Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the show, characters, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**Joanlock**

Chapter 1

"Sherlock?" Joan prodded the man lying slumped at the kitchen table, seemingly fast asleep. He mumbled in response, before lifting his head to glance at his companion. "I believe I'm sick again, Watson." He sighed as best he could with a blocked nose, as if the idea of having a cold was too mundane to contemplate.

"I can get you some of that Chinese herbal tea I gave you last time?" Joan offered, giving her best doctor smile. The detective nodded eagerly, hoping that by the time the tea began working its 'magic', he would be able to consult the NYPD on a new case.

Smirking, Joan shook her head as if she could almost track his exact thoughts "You're not getting that tea if you're just going to be running around the streets to get sick all over again."

Sherlock attempted a meek glare "Watson, you and I both know that I would rather get sick all over again than suffer through _boredom._" The detective's lips curled around the word with distaste.

Joan folded her arms stubbornly "Fine, but I'm pretty sure Captain Gregson won't want you consulting when you could be infecting his whole team."

Knowing that Gregson disliked it when Sherlock consulted sick, he reluctantly accepted defeat and resigned himself to a day in his bed - the location being insisted upon by Watson.

"So Doctor Watson, will you be taking me to bed?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows suggestively, in time to see Watson's eyes widen in surprise and a gentle flush of red to colour her cheeks.

"I could poison your tea, you know." She replied stiffly.

Sherlock just grinned "Oh don't worry Watson, I was just teasing. Nice to know that I can get a satisfactory response from you, though."

Watson glared at him "I'll be back in an hour with that tea. So go to bed."

"Oh don't take too long Watson, I'd hate for your efforts to be wasted on my sudden death from boredom!" He shouted behind her.

While Watson was gone, Sherlock had time to think. Too much time in fact. Usually, he loved to allow his thoughts to wander, but today they lingered far too long on Watson's reaction to his innuendo.

He thought his suggestive comment would just get him a glare and perhaps a reluctant smile out of his companion. He had never seen Watson blush at anything before, even when he pried about her past lovers. Sherlock Holmes was not usually surprised - which was the reason he provided for himself as he begun to linger on the subject before he heard the front door downstairs being shut.

Watson nudged his door open with her foot and brought in a tray of tea. He smiled gratefully and took the tray. Watson turned to leave and before he could stop himself "Watson, would you uhm, stay with me for a while?"

Unsuccessfully hiding her surprise, Watson agreed and then insisted on asking him mundane medical questions to make sure he was okay. Sherlock grinned as an idea suddenly flashed in his mind. He could explain Watson's entire reaction from earlier if he could just check her pulse. How he was going to do that without raising Joan's suspicion he had no idea.

Sherlock was not the only one who had been running through that moment in the kitchen though. Through her entire tea errand, Watson had been wondering what the hell had just happened. First of all, Sherlock had made a sexual suggestion. He had never done that before, not even when they had first met in an attempt to scare her off. It wasn't the blush that had bothered her - not all that much anyway. It was that she had felt her pulse increase slightly at the thought.

"Something bothering you, Watson?" Sherlock enquired innocently, although he could guess what she was thinking about. Before she could answer, he thrust his cup at her, now drained of tea. When Watson reached for the cup, Sherlock took her pulse.

Elevated.

His amused grin faded when Watson leaned into and whispered "Funny, your pulse is elevated. Something bothering you, Sherlock?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock was surprised to find himself alone in the darkness of his room. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep after Watson had brought up the subject of his pulse, winked and left.

Perhaps she had just been trying to distract Sherlock from the fact that she was obviously unnerved by - or attracted to - his close proximity. He shook his head; Watson looked far too smug for that to be a possibility.

The detective smelt the faint trace of take-out food from downstairs and realised that he was hungry. Despite his hunger, he was reluctant to go downstairs. He didn't want Watson to quiz him on what had happened earlier and yet...if he was really honest with himself, he did want her to pry a little.

With a low rumble from his stomach, he made the decision and went downstairs to find a box of Thai food left on the kitchen table with a folded note on top.

_On a date. Back soon. Hope the tea helped. - Watson_

Agitated, Sherlock stuffed the offending note in his pocket and picked at his food, not nearly as appetising as it had seemed a moment ago. Sherlock was unsure whether or not his agitation was due to the fact that he had been cooped up in the apartment all day, or the fact that Watson had a date. He vaguely recalled her telling him about it a few days ago but he must have not been paying much attention.

It's not like Watson never goes on dates, he thought to himself. She has them quite frequently actually -although they never really progressed to a steady relationship due to her occupation as an addict sitter. He smirked and then it faltered. Watson was no longer his sober companion, but his friend and 'apprentice'.

Sherlock disliked the idea of Watson's date progressing into a partner - invading the apartment, distracting her from cases with dates and mundane sentimentality.

He frowned and picked up his phone, deciding to text her.

_Just woke up. Any tea left?_

_No, sorry. I'll make you some when I get back._

_Date not going well then?_

Joan frowned before realising that Sherlock must think she was ignoring her date to text him. She wondered if he was secretly a little glad at the prospect of her having a bad date and then shook the thought away.  
_No, he's in the bathroom. Oh he's coming back, text later._  
_  
_Sherlock was a little disappointed by that but refused to delve into why. He locked his phone and rested his chin on his thumbs. He was becomingly alarmingly aware of boredom creeping up on him and was desperate for something to entertain himself with. He considered calling a prostitute, but he knew Joan would be annoyed if she came back and the house smelt like 'stripper' again.

He decided to call Gregson in the hopes that he had missed something interesting while he was sleeping.

"Gregson." The noise of the background distorted the Captain's voice somewhat but Sherlock ignored it.

"Ah, Gregson! I'm glad you answered. Are there any cases I could help with?" Sherlock enquired hopefully, trying to hide the sickness evident in his voice by enunciating every word.

Captain Gregson sighed."Holmes, it's Friday. It also happens to be 8 p.m. Why would I still be at the station?"

"Oh! Right, right. My apologies, Captain. I should have realised."

"Holmes, are you alright? You haven't done anything like burn down your apartment or spill acid on Ms Watson's bed, have you?" The elder man asked suspiciously.

"No, nothing of the sort!" Sherlock assured him. "I..." he paused "I'm bored and I have nothing here to distract me."

Another sigh. "Look, Holmes, I'm at the bar with Detective Bell if you'd like to join us. I know you shouldn't be around alcohol but quite frankly, I don't trust you when you're bored and at least here I can keep an eye on you."

Sherlock considered the offer for a moment. He was going to go insane on his own, so he agreed.

15 minutes later, Sherlock walked into the bar. He joined the young detective and his boss in their booth and simply ordered a bottle of water from the young waitress wrinkling his nose at the smell of perfume and beer that lingered on her uniform.

"So Sherlock, where's Watson tonight?" Bell asked, draining his beer glass.

"She has a date." Sherlock said, more stiffly than he would've liked.

Gregson grinned "I don't know about you, Bell, but I'd say Holmes is a little jealous."

The younger man peered at their consultant, his eyes filled with amusement "Gee Holmes, I didn't think you'd be the type."

"The type for what?"

"To have a thing for your 'apprentice'." Gregson cut in with a slight chuckle.

"I don't have a 'thing' for Watson!" Sherlock protested indignantly.

Gregson folded his arms against his chest "Uhuh. Well, I may not be you, but I do notice things and you've never made _that_ face regarding Ms Watson's love life before."

Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow before Gregson elaborated "You look like a kid who's just had their first taste of a vegetable."

Bell snorted "It's true. You've never looked like that before."

As Sherlock was about to respond, his phone chimed, diverting his attention.

_I'll be home in 30 minutes._

Sherlock sent a quick reply. _See you soon._

"Well gentlemen, as amusing as it has been to watch you try and deduce my supposed romantic feelings for Watson, I have to go."

Turning to leave, he heard the two men mutter "Chicken."


	3. Chapter 3

Just wanna say a big thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed or favourited, it means a lot! Also, sorry the chapter is so short, but I made it up to you by posting two in one day.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Joan found herself opening the door to the apartment in pitch blackness. "Sherlock?" she called, wondering why he hadn't left on a light for her.

"Hello Watson." a gruff accented voice greeted her.

Joan swung around to face the direction the voice came from "Who the hell are you?" she replied, flicking on the light switch to find it wasn't working.

"Never mind who I am." The voice continued. "Where is- OW!" The now British voice yelled, clutching his jaw.

"Sherlock, you're not seriously trying this crap again are you!" Joan demanded angrily.

"Well Watson," the detective began chirpily despite the throbbing of his jaw "I wanted to test how you would fair with an attacker in the dark. You did rather well."

"Yeah, well now you know. Happy? And why the hell aren't the lights working?"

"I removed the light bulb." Sherlock explained and then he was suddenly all too aware of how close Watson was to him, his pulse increasing steadily the more aware he became of her perfume enveloping him. He quickly moved away from her and flicked on the living room light, making Watson squint against the brightness.

"Oh crap, Sherlock, your jaw!" Sherlock gingerly brushed his jaw to find a few specks of blood on his fingers. "I'm wearing a ring. Sorry."

Sherlock nodded "That's quite alright. It's my fault anyway; I did pretend to be an attacker in the dark."

Watson laughed and grabbing the first aid kit she kept in the kitchen, insisted on treating his injured face.

Sherlock was beginning to be uncomfortable with the ever shortening distance between his and Watson's faces, but every time he attempted to pull his head further away she would tut and pull his face further back in.

"Uh Watson…" Sherlock began hesitantly as Joan made eye contact with him and suddenly Sherlock wasn't thinking anymore he was just doing and his lips were on Watson's and she was actually kissing him back.

The next thing he knew, the hand Watson had wrapped around the back of his neck had disappeared - along with the woman herself – upstairs, without a word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Joanlock**

Chapter 4

The next morning, Sherlock awoke with a stiff neck, having fallen asleep on the floor because he was too anxious to go upstairs. Not after what had happened with Watson.

Sherlock phoned Gregson again, desperate to leave the apartment and avoid having an awkward confrontation with the source of all his conflicting emotions.

"Gregson." He answered on the second ring.

"Good morning Gregson," Sherlock greeted with fake cheer "Listen, I need a case. _Any_ case. Please." Sherlock was startled by his own pleading but he simply accounted it to his desperate circumstances.

"Uh…" The Captain paused and Sherlock heard the shuffling of papers – no doubt the NYPD's recent cases – on Gregson's desk. "Most of them are pretty mundane…"

"Doesn't matter. I'll be there in 30 minutes." Sherlock promised firmly before disconnecting the call.

True to his word, Sherlock was seated in Gregson's office just as the elder man arrived back with a cup of coffee.

"So how is it you usually wouldn't touch these cases if your life depended on it before, but now you're practically begging to help? Also, what the hell happened to your jaw?" Gregson asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock's mouth stiffened in response but he didn't answer.

Gregson's eyes widened in surprise "Holmes, what'd you do now?"

"Well…" Sherlock paused awkwardly, unsure of how to continue "Watson came home and I tested her ability to fight off intruders, then she punched me in the jaw and I kissed her." The consultant blurted out in a rush.

"Shouldn't the punch have come after the kiss?" He asked, an eyebrow still raised.

"Not according to Watson apparently. In fact, at first she took it so well that she kissed me back… and then she disappeared upstairs." Sherlock replied sheepishly.

The Captain folded his arms "And now you're avoiding her. Great plan there, Holmes."

Before Sherlock could defend himself, Detective Bell walked into the office. "Sherlock, what are you doing here? Did we get a new case?" he asked addressing his boss.

"No, Holmes is here because he's a chicken." Gregson replied, smirking from behind his desk.

Bell grinned "Oh yeah, what'd he do now?"

"Go on Holmes, tell Bell what happened."

Sherlock huffed impatiently "Not that it is any of your concern but Watson punched me, I kissed Watson and she kissed me and then she disappeared upstairs without a word so now I'm here."

"Avoiding her." Bell supplied.

"Well, what else would you have me do? Say 'Watson, I'm terribly sorry but I'd very much like to kiss you again so can we please talk about why you ran away?'." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well from where I'm sitting, she's not the only one running." Gregson pointed out smugly.

Joan stretched out languidly in her bed, a relaxed smile on her face before she remembered what had happened last night. Sherlock. The kiss. Her running away. She grimaced, not her finest moment, running from Sherlock like she was on fire and he was gasoline.

What bothered Joan the most was that she kissed Sherlock back. She had kissed her friend _eagerly_; like there was nothing more she wanted than his lips on hers.

She stiffened as it occurred to her that Sherlock may be downstairs right now, waiting for her. What would they say? Would they agree to pretend like it never happened? Ignore it and linger on _what if's_?

"Ugh." Joan mumbled, kicking the covers off her legs and heading downstairs, listening for any sound of Sherlock waiting for her.

Instead all she got was a text on her phone: _At the station with Gregson, needed help with a case. – Sherlock_

Joan smirked. So she wasn't the only terrified one, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note:  
**

Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited and reviewed! I love you all! It's also nice to know that people actually like my strange ramblings about my ships, it encourages me to write. Also, if you'd like me to write anything specifically for you just find my blog, legendarykoalatales on Tumblr and ask and it shall be written! As an apology for my short chapters from last week, I tried to extend this one a bit! Oh, also, I have decided that for however long this fanfiction lasts, I will be updating with a new chapter every Sunday.

Chapter 5

Joan opened the door to the apartment cautiously, as if she was expecting Sherlock to have set a trap in the hallway, to find Sherlock asleep on the living room couch. Joan stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure whether to go upstairs and avoid her roommate the rest of the day or wake him to talk.

"3 minutes, 27 seconds." Sherlock mumbled suddenly.

"What?" Joan asked confused.

"That's how long you've been staring at me."

"Uhh…" Joan replied still confused.

"I heard you come in. Something you'd like to discuss?" He asked with his eyes still shut.

"Well, about last night…" Watson began as Sherlock interrupted her.

"Don't worry about the kiss Watson, it was a mistake on my part entirely. Think nothing of it."

"No, wait, Sherlock! You can't just brush it off like that and expect me to forget." Watson said stubbornly.

Sherlock sat up abruptly "It was a mistake, yes? I kissed you and you did not reciprocate? Then what is there to talk about?"

Joan raised her arms in surrender "Well clearly you've sorted this out in your mind already, so why bother?"

Once Watson had disappeared Sherlock felt like an idiot. He was so afraid that Watson would lash out at him about the kiss that he had pretended to brush it off as a misjudgement and leave it at that. Now it seemed that he had only succeeding in making Watson angrier.

Watson sat on her bed in defeat. She had been considering the kiss the entire morning and then Sherlock had just gone and brushed it all off, like an error in a simple experiment. She considered that perhaps Sherlock had just done it so there would be no awkwardness between them given that he thought she didn't reciprocate. Despite being an expert in reading body language, Sherlock had clearly overlooked Watson's jumping pulse as he had leaned closer to her face, not to mention the fact that her hands had clasped his neck to pull him closer. Idiot, she thought, tossing a spare pillow to the floor in frustration.

Suddenly Watson was grinning as an idea sprung to mind. If Sherlock was so dense that he refused to acknowledge her reciprocation, she would just have to make it a little more obvious.

The next morning, Sherlock in his usual fashion, barged into Joan's room and began picking out clothes for her.

"Sherlock," she groaned from beneath her pillow "Please tell me the apartment is on fire and you're attempting to save me."

Sherlock threw a pair of jeans onto Joan's bed "Watson, we have a case! Should I pick out undergarments for you as well?"

Joan's eyes shot open and then she grinned "You're only getting near those if you're taking them off me."

Sherlock desperately tried to fight off the images that had just been conjured up in his mind by Watson's little joke. "Right. Well I will be downstairs. Don't take too long, Watson."

Joan chuckled all through getting dressed.

Gregson glanced at his watch impatiently before his consultant burst through his office door with a case file in hand and his roommate following shortly behind.

"Sorry about the delay, Captain, Watson took a fair amount of time getting ready this morning."

Joan rolled her eyes "Can't we have a rule that there are to be no cases before eight am?"

Gregson laughed at the glare Sherlock sent his roommate before leading the pair to the crime scene.

Sherlock folded his arms irritably when they arrived at the crime scene "Gregson, I think it's fair to say that it is obvious this man was killed by his ex-girlfriend."

Gregson folded his arms "Oh yeah, and how exactly do you know that?"

Sherlock sighed and gestured to the expanse of the room "Look at everything. Perfect. Untouched. There was no struggle here and yet this man is dead. And look," he pointed to the fireplace "There are four photo frames there, but only three pictures."

"Holmes, this still doesn't explain the ex-girlfriend theory." Gregson pointed out.

"Well, perhaps I can get Watson to explain it to you." Sherlock turned expectantly to his newfound apprentice.

"Well... He must have known his murderer and let them in if there was no struggle. Given the angle of the gunshot wound, his attacker must've been shorter than him – perhaps a woman. Clearly that photo had something to do with the murderer personally, otherwise what would be the point of taking it?" Watson finished her sentence uncertainly, until she found Sherlock beaming at her.

"Excellent Watson!" He turned to Gregson "I'm sure if you check his phone the last person that called him was a woman, the ex-girlfriend. That's your killer."

Sherlock heard Gregson call after him and only shouted "Call me if I'm right!" behind his shoulder.

Despite Watson's excellent progress, Sherlock was annoyed with the simplicity of the case.

"We just solved a murder, and yet you look upset."

"It was a dull case, Watson." He replied petulantly.

"Well at least you didn't get dragged out of bed for this 'dull case'." Joan attempted a mock glare at the detective but couldn't help grinning at his irritable expression.

"You seem rather cheerful today, Watson. What's happened? Can't help thinking of me and your undergarments?" Sherlock shut his mouth abruptly after he realised what he'd said. He couldn't believe he'd let that slip.

Joan leaned forward and Sherlock eyed her suspiciously, fearing her reaction. Watson simply smiled and whispered seductively in his ear, letting her breath tickle his neck "_Wouldn't you like to know._"


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:**

**Again thank you to everyone who has read and favourited/followed or reviewed this story! I really appreciate the feedback and all the love I've been getting! I think I should warn you that there is only one more chapter of this story...**

**Anyway, enjoy and leave me reviews please!**

**Oh and a huge thank you to my awesome beta, the Miracle Indian! You've been awesome!**

Chapter 6

Sherlock decided to take his mind off Joan's unnerving behaviour by testing his memory. He was watching each TV screen intently until Joan came downstairs in one of her more… miniscule pyjama sets.

"Sherlock, do you mind turning the TV's down a little?"

"Ah Watson," Sherlock croaked, trying to ignore the amount of smooth leg jutting out of Watson's pink pyjama shorts "Sorry, I'll turn them down."

"Thanks." She smiled gratefully and began sifting through the many take-out menus piled up on the kitchen counter. Sherlock's attention was diverted from the screens once again when Joan let out a sigh of frustration.

"I'm sick of take-out," his roommate complained "Let's go out for dinner tonight?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow "You don't plan to go out in that, do you?"

Joan shook her head "I'll go get dressed. Be ready in 20 minutes?"

Sherlock nodded and then rose, deciding that he should change his clothes too.

Twenty minutes later Joan descended the staircase in one what Sherlock had recently catalogued as one of her 'date outfits'. Sherlock couldn't decide if he was more surprised by the fact that he had begun noticing what Watson wore on dates, or by the fact that Watson was wearing clothing she primarily used for outings with romantic partners.

Watson was also surprised by how nicely Sherlock had dressed. As he helped her into her coat, she also noticed that he had even worn cologne. Very nice cologne to wear to dinner with someone who you don't think reciprocates your feelings, Joan thought, her mouth quirking into a triumphant smirk.

"This is certainly an improvement from take-out." Sherlock remarked as the waiter handed their menus to them.

"I thought we could use a nice meal that didn't come out of a polystyrene box." Watson shrugged.

After the two had placed their orders, the waiter glanced between them and faked a smile "I'll just go grab a candle for your table. It's more romantic."

"Oh no, I'm not his date." Joan said, casting a glance at Sherlock, who didn't appear fazed by the date comment.

The waiter's fake smile blossomed into an actual grin "Oh well, his loss then," and left the table with a wink.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the back of the retreating waiter "Well it appears the waiter fancies you, Watson. Perhaps we can get a free dessert out of it."

Watson cast an admiring glance at the waiter, sensing Sherlock's slight jealousy. She now had a good opportunity to show Sherlock that the kiss (and whatever else was between them) was reciprocated.

Throughout the dinner, Joan watched in amusement as Sherlock began to show his irritation towards the waiter's flirting.

"Here's your food, folks. I hope you enjoy it." The waiter said handing them their food and giving Watson a flirty grin.

"If you don't mind handing us our food before you drool all over it gazing at Ms Watson." Sherlock snapped. The waiter handed their food to them hastily and left.

"I'd be careful with that Watson; he may have spiked it with some mysterious voodoo love potion."

"Sherlock, are you _jealous_?" Joan asked stifling her laughter.

"No!" the detective protested "Why would I be? I'm not your date, remember?"

"Well maybe you would be if you hadn't chickened out of our conversation about the kiss!" Joan blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Watson, are you still annoyed by the fact that I kissed you?"

Watson sighed in frustration "No, I'm not annoyed that you _kissed _me! I'm annoyed that you refuse to talk about it!"

"You don't really want to have this conversation, Watson." Sherlock said quietly.

"Oh and why not? You can't decide whether or not I want to talk about it, Sherlock!"

"Perhaps we should leave." Sherlock suggested, dropping his fork to the plate.

Joan signalled to the waiter "Can we get some wine please? A bottle preferably." She asked, smiling as sweetly as possible.

Once the waiter had left, Joan turned to Sherlock "Don't think we're leaving until we've talked about this. I know you; you'll disappear into your room and pretend like this conversation never happened!"

Sherlock leaned in towards Watson "Okay then, lets discuss it." He eyed his apprentice daring her to bring up the topic.

"You kissed me. Why?"

Sherlock's jaw tensed "I don't know! You looked like you wanted to kiss me and suddenly I wanted to kiss you too and then I just did. I see now that it was an unwise decision."

Joan groaned and buried her face in her hands "You say you're the smartest man in the world but you are actually an _idiot_!"

"What?" Sherlock asked in confusion.

"Sherlock, do you think the kiss was a mistake because I ran away or because you don't have feelings for me?"

Sherlock sighed "Watson, does it really matter?"

"It matters to me." She replied stubbornly.

"Because you ran away. But don't worry; I shouldn't have assumed that you felt the same."

Joan suddenly grinned and pulled Sherlock closer to her, their faces centimetres apart.

"Idiot." She muttered and then pulled Sherlock's lips to hers.


End file.
